


memento vitae

by greatduwangs



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Dark fic, Eventual Romance, Genderfluid Character, King being King & Kaido being Kaido, Multi, Psychological Torture, Slow Burn, Torture, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29714463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatduwangs/pseuds/greatduwangs
Summary: Robin joins the Beast Pirates.  This wasn't by choice.AU, Yamato/Robin endgame.
Relationships: Black Maria/Nico Robin, Kaido & Yamato (One Piece), King & Nico Robin, Nico Robin/Yamato
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	memento vitae

At first she considered biting her tongue off. It would have been rather simple, really, to allow herself to choke on her own blood rather than to face whatever  _ hell  _ was waiting for her. Death would be a welcome friend.

But the voice of her mother called out to her again - “ _ Live, Robin _ !” - and Robin held her head up high. She would not die here, not as a person, nor as a reminder of Ohara’s legacy. Glaring defiantly at her guard, Robin had half a mind to spit at him. She didn’t, of course - she was too proud to. It would be a lie to say the thought didn’t cross her mind, though.

The guard looked down upon her. He, who had managed to capture her. The girl who had evaded even the Government for almost six years. How she wished she could take a look beneath that  _ abhorrent  _ leather mask at the face of her demise. Only his eyes could be seen, a sharp crimson that dug into her own like a dagger. He was large, though, his body built in a way that made her think he could snap her like a twig. Yet that wasn’t the most frightening part of his image. Big, black wings, looking rather as if they were burnt to a crisp, folded by his back. A small flame breathed life in the back of his neck, the smoke wisping up to the ceiling.

She heard the others on the ship call him King. He didn’t look like a King, she thought, but it would have to do as a name for now.

King stared right back at her with an almost unamused expression in his eyes. Robin tried her best to look bored at that moment, praying in her head that it would work. She found it easier to escape punishment if she didn’t scream or cry or beg for mercy.

No mercy would come, anyway.

“Nico Robin,” said King. His voice was deep, yet burned like a spark about to be set ablaze. “You know how to read the Poneglyphs.” It wasn’t a question.

Kings didn’t ask  _ questions _ .

Robin’s gaze drifted around the room. They had come prepared, with seastone cuffs and bars to prevent her from escaping. They also had apparently been  _ very  _ prepared for her in particular - judging from the newspaper clippings pinned to the wall, to the dagger that stuck her wanted poster at the door. She swallowed, and looked back to King.

“I do.”

It was her only hope at  _ living _ \- even she knew how significant that fact was now. That she was the sole person in the world who could read the ancient text. Therefore, she was too important to die.

At least, she hoped so.

“You’ll be under my care for the next few weeks.” He spoke as if informing her of a business arrangement. “We will be transporting you to a secondary location. I have -  _ orders  _ not to harm you.” The last words were strained, as if he had to force them out.

Briefly, Robin wondered if there was supposed to be a ‘yet’ somewhere in there. She had a feeling there was.

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her words, of her begging for mercy, Robin stared back at King. A thousand insults died on her tongue at that moment. Some sort of overwhelming force was pushing down upon her, a  _ gravity  _ of some kind. Like she was thrown into the lake as a child,  _ drowning drowning drowning _ . Robin fell limp, finding it suddenly oh-so-difficult to breath.

Then it was over, as quickly as it happened. King’s fire spoke whispers and jeers at her, and when he spoke next it was with some sick, twisted sort of glee - no, his voice was as stoic as ever, but she could  _ tell  _ he was enjoying this.

“You will be given a meal once every three days,” he said. “These meals will be fed to you by one of my men, under the watch of myself. Water will be given after these.”

“Where are you taking me?” The question left her lips in an instant, and no matter how hard she tried to stop her voice from shaking it still trembled.

King did not look pleased at the fact that he had been interrupted. In fact, despite the mask that covered his face, his eyes looked absolutely livid. His hands shot out and grasped at the bars, the distinct odour of burning metal filling the cell. Robin flinched at the sudden action. No matter how much she was used to it, the prospect of pain still hurt.

“Do not ask questions,” King ordered. “Do not interrupt me. Do not  _ disobey  _ my orders…  _ brat _ .”

She nodded meekly, biting down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from whimpering. It was unbecoming of her, but she was  _ still a child _ \- only fourteen years of age. And yet that didn’t stop King from staring at her as if calculating how best to  _ butcher  _ her. 

Straightening up his back and letting go of the bars, King’s flames flared up before dying back down again. 

“Enjoy your stay, Nico Robin.” He sounded oddly amused at this. 

He left her behind to wallow in her own thoughts. Chained to the wall, the last Oharan felt any semblance of hope she had left wilt, and all that was left was a dying flower.

* * *

In a distant memory, his father had called him a princess.

Not in an affectionate sort of way, no. It was just impossible that the  _ King of Beasts  _ would ever speak of even his own family in such a doting way. Even the way he said it sounded as if he were talking about a weapon, or some sort of tool. The pride in his voice was reserved for him, and him alone, and certainly not for Yamato.

_ My little princess _ .

He’d been four-years-old, at the time, and believed his father to be the world. Travelling with him on his galleon, traversing the seas and making a name for themselves (not Yamato, though - as hard as he would try, he was never allowed to join in on the raids), the Beast Pirates were a name to be feared. Just as Yamato swore his name would spark fear in his enemies, the very whisper of Kaido’s would cause a storm.

His father had taken him to see a  _ queen _ \- “ _ An old hag _ ,” he had said - and for the first time he met Charlotte Linlin. The impossibly large not-giant had leered at him, lips curled back in an unpleasant smile that reminded Yamato far too much of a child receiving candy, and said he was a pretty little girl.

Yamato didn’t know why at the time, but he felt rather uncomfortable at her words. And when Kaido introduced him as his little princess, he felt blood rush to his cheeks and humiliation swept over him. He didn’t say a word in response to Linlin, merely hiding behind his father’s legs in fear of  _ her _ .

That night, Kaido raised his fist at him for the first time.

He was weak, the King of Beasts said. A weak little child who shamed him to disgrace. Yamato hid in a barrel after that, cradling his bruised arm, and hoping none of the others would see him. That was the first seed of doubt planted in his mind. Oh, he still believed the world of his father, of course - it had been  _ his  _ fault for being too feeble - but now there was a voice in the back of his mind telling him to stand up to Kaido. That his father was wrong, and that he could be stronger than Kaido thought he was.

He promptly ignored those thoughts, and feared what his father would do had he’d the ability to read minds. Nothing good could possibly come out of it. 

But now, things had changed. Now  _ he  _ was no longer the meek, feeble girl he was once - he was now a man, and a damn good one at that. True, he may have been… somewhat inspired by one Kozuki Oden, but that didn’t matter! He was no longer just Yamato, daughter of Kaido - he was  _ Oden _ , a hero to Wano, who explored the outside world and lived and died by his own code. Yamato thought he had looked up to someone as a hero - his father. 

And then the day of the boiling happened, and Yamato stared on with awe at just what a true hero could be.

So, he changed his entire identity. The conversation with his father had been short.

“ _ Father, I’m a boy now _ .”

“ _ And? Do you need my permission or something? Stupid son _ .”

Although at the time he hadn’t exactly told Kaido  _ why  _ he wanted to be a boy, the feeling of being called Kaido’s son just felt  _ natural _ . The Beasts began to call him by those pronouns, and anyone who  _ didn’t  _ was given a harsh reminding of what happened to those who disrespected Kaido’s blood. Of course, the fact that he refused to eat anything resembling soup didn’t go unnoticed by his father. Kaido just chalked it up to feeling sick from the execution.

He was right, in a way. It did make him sick.

Perhaps most peculiar was the absence of  _ beatings  _ Yamato received around this time. Even though he had been determined to fight back against his father - they suddenly stopped. 

And then they started again.

He didn’t regret telling Kaido of his new name. Kozuki Oden. He was a hero, and he would wear that name with honour. Yamato walked up to his father, in the middle of a meeting with the higher-ups of the crew, and announced his idol to be the late Oden, a man so brave and so wonderful that he was  _ boiled alive  _ for the fear of him. Kaido had, at this point, been shocked - then confused - then, finally,  _ wrathful _ . 

The Beast backhanded him, causing him to topple over and fall to the ground. Several  _ impacts  _ of the spiked club later and Yamato was whimpering on the floor, curled up into a protective ball. Kaido sneered down at him.

“ _ Is that was the great Kozuki Oden was to you _ ?” His voice was booming, like thunder. “ _ A coward who would lie down and allow himself to be beaten like this _ ?  _ You disrespect me, boy _ .”

Yamato had paused, realization having struck him, and stood up. He raised his chin to his father. “ _ I am Kozuki Oden _ ,” he had said, “ _ and I am the hero that will liberate Wano _ !”

A glimmer of pride passed over Kaido’s eyes for just a moment - then it was gone, and Yamato blacked out.

And that’s how he woke up - in his room, a pack of ice just underneath his horns and a resounding headache that irritated him to no end. Several nurses were with him at the time too. It was shameful. He scowled at the ceiling as if it were to be blamed for all his misfortune. The ceiling said nothing in its defence back. 

The only person he  _ wasn’t  _ ashamed of seeing at that moment was Jack. Who, at that time, understood very well what it meant to be  _ humiliated  _ in front of others. He was a large boy, a fishman at that, and although the other children in the Beasts’ crew oft made fun of him for his pigtails he always wanted to prove himself to be better than people thought of him. They became friends due to their closeness in age, and then due to a rivalry to prove themselves to the crew. Yamato admired his friend’s determination, even if it was placed in the wrong hands.

Jack sat by Yamato’s bedside, his large form almost too big for Yamato’s room. He was knitting a scarf - a hobby he picked up, in hopes of finding a more delicate work for his hands - which would help in fighting, he would say. Yamato knew that was a lie. Jack enjoyed it. He just wished the fishman would admit it.

The room was silent. Not one of them dared to speak a word, for anything that broke the silence would be as loud as thunder.

Yamato coughed, and Jack sighed.

“What were you  _ thinking _ , pulling a stunt like that?” he asked in a tone that sounded far older than he was. He set down his knitting kit and crossed his arms, frowning. “You know how it would end up. And Oden? Seriously?”

Oh, there it was. The reprimanding. “I had to, Jack. It was for my own pride.”

“You told your father, the man who  _ Kozuki Oden injured _ , that you were Oden. Oden!” Jack said.

“You called?” Yamato joked, grinning. He turned to look at his friend, and his smile dropped as soon as he did. Jack looked stern, more serious than Yamato had ever seen him before - and worried. Sighing, Yamato continued. “It’s just - all my life I’ve looked up to father. Then, I saw Oden, standing there for  _ hours  _ to protect his friends, and… maybe that’s what I wanted to be. Like him.”

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, looking far too much like a  _ stern mother  _ for Yamato’s own liking.

“I’m not gonna be here next time you decide to be so - so  _ idiotic  _ in front of Lord Kaido,” he said.

“Abandoning me already?”

“I’m going on a mission,” Jack announced, straightening himself up the best he could. It didn’t work very well. “Some of the Headliners are heading out to meet some scientist. Apparently he’s worked with Vegapunk.” He paused. “I’ll be coming along as backup.”

Yamato blinked. “You’re going out there?”

“It’s a chance to be in the crew for real. They said that they’ll be giving out an Ancient Zoan fruit to someone from this journey.”

“Right. . .”

He didn’t admit it, especially not in front of Jack, but he was suddenly feeling very alone. Not noticing Jack pick up the knitting kit again, he wallowed in his own misery, mind racing a mile a minute. Just as Kaido rejected his hero, Jack was following Yamato’s father into whatever hell he would raise. The thought that Jack would become just another one of Kaido’s lackeys was - he didn’t want to think about it.

It was sad.

“By the way, apparently King’s got himself a good catch,” Jack said. “Some new patient.”

Yamato shivered at the mention of King. “Did he mention their name?”

“He just sent in a transponder call while you were out. Didn’t say a name, but said they were valuable.” Jack paused. “Something about a Devil.”

“Scary,” Yamato said. “Knowing King, he’s probably got himself a real demon.”

He went back to staring at the ceiling, picturing what he imagined a demon to look like in his head. For some reason, all he could picture was Kaido. Quite telling.

After further banter between the two and thinly-veiled concern for the other, Jack excused himself and left the room. Conveniently, he left the scarf behind - finished. Yamato picked it up, admiring its quality. Admittedly, it was a kind of poor quality, but that didn’t stop Yamato from absolutely adoring it. A gift from a friend, a reminder of the years they’ve shared and years to come.

He swung it around his neck, looking into his bedroom mirror with glee. 

All the while, the bruises on his face glared back at him.


End file.
